


Fuck it, just call it MK Ultra or something

by SkazuhiraMiller



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, BBKaz Day 2017, Comedy, M/M, Past Bosselot, by him I mean Big Boss., hear him hurgling, specifically Big Boss's Shitty Grunge Band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkazuhiraMiller/pseuds/SkazuhiraMiller
Summary: It's the '90s. It's Seattle. Local grunge band Paramilitary Corporation has a new guitarist, although he doesn't know it yet. He's their ticket to having fans who aren't Snake's mom.





	Fuck it, just call it MK Ultra or something

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BBKaz Day 2017- The theme was "first encounter." Thank you to Bip who is probably the main reason why I'm even writing this! They encouraged me after I joked about Big Boss having a shitty grunge band on their tweet about BBKaz Day! And thank you to Lia who continues to be the best beta reader! 
> 
> We'll see if I add more to this... If I do, get ready for all mentioned characters to show up eventually.

“Who the  _ hell _  is that?” Cecile gestured towards a guy standing across the room. Totally clean-shaven. Blonde hair meticulously done up in a pompadour. Wearing sunglasses inside. A real class-act. If a person could have high production value, it would look like this dude. “Who does he think he  _ is _ ?”

Jack chuckled. “Our new guitarist.”

“What? You know him?”  

“I know  _ of _  him. Saw him at the open mic night last week at the Ruby Room. I know what it looks like. He probably takes a shower  _ every morning _ . But he’s what Paramilitary Corporation  _ needs _ .”

“Ah. So you don’t even know his name and you’ve decided he’s already in your band.”

“I do TOO know his name. It’s ..hhghhh… Connor.. Or something… Listen, Cecile… He was really good at guitar so I didn’t catch exactly what he said.”

Cecile huffed. “Typical. What are you going to do, go put him in a  _ chokehold _  or something and make him join PMC?”

Jack shook his head, laughing quietly. “What, I can’t just ask him nicely?” Cecile rolled her eyes.

“Look. I just have a feeling about him, “ Jack continued, “He’s gonna take this band places. And if this band goes places then I won’t be sleeping on your floor anymore. So uh,” Jack looked down, “can I borrow a few bucks? This’ll be easier if I buy him a drink-”

Cecile let out a sigh and forked over a bill. “You sure it’s not ‘cause you’ll be sleeping in  _ his _  bed, Jack?”    
  
Jack grunted. “You’re ridiculous, Cecile.” He started to make his way across the bar.    


“Isn’t that what you said about Adam?” Cecile’s voice trailed off as he disappeared into the crowd of people. He knew he’d reached his destination when the smell of cheap cologne hit him, at once overpowering the ambient smell of sweat and beer. That’s him. That’s the guy.

\- - -

“Hey, SHADES!” came a gruff voice from behind Kazuhira. Shades? Kazuhira whipped around and found himself face to face with a large, bearded man. He was imposing despite being several inches shorter than Kazuhira was. He blended into the crowd effortlessly with his hair, unwashed and uncut for God knows how long, flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, and torn jeans. He was actually pretty good-looking if you looked past the whole “recently crawled out of a dumpster” vibe.

“You know, actually, my name’s Kazuhira,” he said, trying his best not to let his annoyance slip through in his voice.

“Huh…” Dirty Beard Man took a second, “Kaz...uhh……hgh…. Kazoo Hero ”

Kazuhira couldn’t not laugh. That was a fucking new one. “Kaz is fine,” he said. He was past the point where he expected Anglophones to even try with his first name. One of these days he was just gonna start introducing himself as his last name. Who could fuck up “Miller”?

“I’m Jack,” rasped Dirty Beard… Jack. Sounded like a pirate. Kaz snapped out of imagining what he’d look like wearing an eyepatch when he started talking again, “Didn’t you play the Ruby Room last week?”

“Didn’t i- what?” Holy shit did he just-? Kaz’s heart was racing. Someone actually-

“Play the Ruby Room. Last week. Open Mic night, about-”    


“No, I heard you. It’s just.. I never thought anyone would ever pay attention, especially because I focus mostly on instrumentals because I’m really no good as a vocalist.” His face felt hot. God, was he  _ really _  blushing? He silently thanked the universe for the bar’s dim lighting.

“Well…” Jack’s gears turned for a second, “Kaz…. You’re pretty good. I’d love to hear what you sound like with a shit-ton of distortion.”

Kaz’s eyes lit up behind his aviators. “Actually I’ve been saving up to get pedals for that! I really love the sound! That’s why I’ve been trying to go to more shows like this! I’m- I’m glad you liked it!”

Jack wordlessly motioned to Kaz to follow him for the bar. When he got the bartender’s attention he gestured to Kaz. “Whatever he wants and a whiskey on the rocks.”

Kaz gave the bartender a confident smile. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Jack paid and handed Kaz his drink. Kaz raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. His eyes widened at the sensation of fire in his throat as he tried to suppress a cough. At least the sunglasses covered up the tears in his eyes.

“Got something caught in your throat?” Jack chuckled.

“Yup… drinking fluids. Never quite got that one down,” said Kaz,  _ totally _  radiating nonchalance.

“Listen, kid. How about you and me make a wager?” Well, shit. This Jack guy laid the intrigue on real early.

“A wager?” Kaz echoed.

“Yeah. See that girl over there?” Jack pointed across the bar to a beautiful blonde woman. “Twenty bucks says you can’t get her number. You get her number, you get the money. You can’t, you have to join my band.”

It was like this guy just wanted to hand him money. Sorry, Jack, you’re wagering with  _ Ladykiller Miller _ . Well, that’s what his college friends called him. He swore he didn’t make that up. Kaz extended his hand to grip Jack’s in a firm handshake. “Deal.” He’d be sure to ask Jack more about his band after he got the number and the money.

Kaz made his way across the bar. He caught his own reflection in a window and ran a hand back over his hair. All in place. He nodded at his own reflection. You got this, Kazuhira. He approached. Smiled. Gave her the best angle on his chiseled profile. “Hey, what’s your name? I’m-”

She finished for him. “Leaving.” She turned around and disappeared into the growing group of people gathering in front of the stage as the next band got up to do their sound check. Damn. Tough crowd. Maybe she was just having a bad night? Maybe he wasn’t her type? But, hell, that was what that one punk girl last week said before she called him “the worst” as she was undoing his ascot. Her accent sounded… French? Weren’t French people stuck up anyways?

He guessed he should get back to Jack now. Didn’t make much sense to ditch him. They shook on it, and Jack was frankly kinda scary. Seemed like a cool enough guy and Kaz didn’t want to be on his bad side.

“That was fast.” Jack remarked, smirking.

“I don’t know what her problem was….” Kaz sighed. “Tell me about this band, I guess.”

“We’re called Paramilitary Corporation. We play grunge. This band that’s getting up now? One of our bigger influences. You’d play lead guitar for us. We just kicked out a guitarist.”

“Shit, what’d he do?”

“Wouldn’t stop hitting on our drummer. It was weird, considering that our drummer is engaged to my mom.” Kaz squinted his eyes trying to piece together this bit of drama, but Jack helped him out. “Normally it’d be weird to play in a band with your stepmom but she’s as dedicated to the music as anyone. And she lets us use my mom's garage as a practice space. Plus she’s closer to my age than my mom’s.”

This guy was just a piece of work and a half. Gay cradle robber mom? Kaz was  _ listening _ . “Anyways… Huey was just weird to have in the band even if he wasn’t trying to get with my stepmom...  Kept on submitting songs about ‘Gundams’ or something.”  

Kaz nodded. “What's the drummer’s name?”

“Her name’s Valerie but we all just call her Strangelove… it's her stage name that she insists on. I don't mind because Valerie’s what my mom calls her and that's weird...”

“Oh so it's a stage names kinda band?” Kaz's voice was more than a little excited. He could probably think of a million badass names-

Jack shrugged. “It's whatever you make of it, really. Up there people call me ‘Snake.’” Shit. Shit. How was Kaz gonna follow that? It was cool. It was minimalist. Not trying too hard. Fuck. Kaz put “think of a worthy stage name” onto his mind’s back burner.

Jack continued, “so it's Strangelove, me, you, and Paz. Paz is only 16 but she's badass. She's like everyone's cool little sister. She tears up the bass. Me and Strangelove found her in the parking lot after a show once getting hit up by some gross dudes so we stepped in. And our bassist had just quit to focus on bird photography so when we found out she played bass well... That's how we got her. Anyway, with you on  lead guitar we HAVE to start getting gigs… right?”

“Well you know….” Kaz paused and tried out the name, “ _ Snake _ . Getting gigs isn't just about talent. It's also about getting your name out there. And I think I can help with that.”

“Huh…. Ok. Whatever. Just know… we put artistic integrity first.”

“Of course,” Kaz smiled. Integrity. Cool. You're gonna be able to afford a haircut soon if Kaz has any say in this.

The band was starting their set now. Jack waited for the right moment and grabbed a pen from behind the bar with stealthy finesse. No one saw except Kaz. “Write your number down on this receipt so I can call you when we practice.” Kaz wrote his digits down in his neat handwriting. “Wow, even put the area code all professional-like huh?” noted Jack. “Well, until then. I better get back to my friends.”

Did that really just happen? Did he just get snap recruited into that ruggedly handsome trash man's band? Kaz's head was spinning. Well. He did want to start pursuing music more so… he'd take it as the universe's sign.

* * *

It was Sunday at 3 pm the next day when Kaz heard a knock on his door. He put down the brush he was using to scrub the kitchen sink and washed his hands. He opened the door to see none other than that band guy from last night. Wearing… well, exactly what he wore last night.

“Jack? How did you figure out where I lived?” Jack made a vague noise and entered Kaz's apartment.

“Where's your bathroom?”

“Down that way on the right” Kaz pointed. Nature calls, he guessed.

Snake returned in almost no time at all carrying an armful of… were those…?

“What's the big idea? What are you doing with all my hairspray? Those were expensive! And is that my razor?”

“I'm kidnapping them” Jack said flatly.

“I don't think this was part of the deal.” Kaz said, getting dangerously close to raising his voice.

“Listen, Kaz… you're in a grunge band now. We can't have you looking like a yuppie fuck.”

“Oh, so I look like a yuppie fuck, huh?” Kaz threw his right hand up in annoyance.  _ Now _  he was raising his voice.

\---

Jack had really done it now. The kid was getting mad. Cecile was right. That was ok. He'll love his new look. Let's try this again.

“You're a clean cut kinda guy. Just listen to the name. Grunge. It’s dirty. It's laidback. You can't be doing  _ this. _ ” He gestured towards Kaz's meticulously styled hair.

“Oh, so I should just  _ conform _  to your standards of not conforming to society?” Oh, so now he was trying to get all  _ conceptual. _  That's fighting dirty as far as Jack is concerned. Time to bring it back.

“Kaz. Just trust me. You'll look great.” Now that he thought about it, he wasn't just saying that. It was true. Kaz already looked  _ good _  but if he let down that hair and had some five o'clock shadow… Jack came back to reality, “You'll see. We're gonna try this, together, ok? If you think you look terrible you can go back to doing whatever your routine is… but trust me.. you're gonna love the easy life.”

Kaz took a breath. “Well. Ok. I guess it can't hurt to experiment.” See. This is what Jack needed to hear. He started by running his fingers through Kaz's hair, freeing some strands from his hairspray's iron grip. They fell down and got in his face. Cute. Jack moved his hand to Kaz's aviators.

“I gotta ask. Why the shades? We live in Seattle. The sun is never even-” He pulled the sunglasses off. Holy shit. If Jack had been remotely good with language he'd have thought of some nice words to describe Kaz’s eyes. But he wasn't and all he knew was those eyes, cold blue and focused intently on him, sure deserved some  _ words.  _ They were squinting now as Kaz tilted his head slightly.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh… I uh.. lost my train of thought.” He looked down at the aviators in his hand, “But as I was saying, these … no.”

“You know I'm not wearing them just to be an asshole, right?” Actually, Jack did NOT know that and had just assumed.“I experience photosensitivity-induced headaches and reducing the amount of light helps a lot.” Ah. So those fancy words boiled down to it being Jack who was the asshole now.

“We'll find you something less… designer then. And less shiny. Shiny is a big no-go. That means that watch too.” He gestured to Kaz’s expensive-looking wristwatch. “At least you’re not like my ex…. guitarist… hrhgh... ex-guitarist. Adam. He quit the band when we told him he couldn’t wear his glittery platform cowboy boots on stage. Christ, Adam. This isn’t glam metal. He was talented but I don’t think he even  _ likes _  grunge.”

“Then why was he in your band, huh? He lose a bet too?”

\- - -

“A fight, actually. Anyways that’s a long story for another day.” How much more intrigue could this Jack Snake guy possibly have in store?  _ What did he do to Glitter Boots Adam?????  _ Whatever. Snake could fuck up his hair for all he cared, he had to know more.

“Oh, and I guess I should leave this here.” Snake pulled a cassette tape out of his pocket and handed it to Kaz.

Kaz read the Sharpie letters on the paper that had been unceremoniously shoved into the jewel case. “Fuck it, call it MK Ultra or something?”

“That’s our demo EP. Five and a half songs. I was  _ trying _  to tell Paz to just write down “MK Ultra” but she wrote down the whole thing I said and no one felt like going upstairs to steal another paper from my mom’s copier. So that’s what it’s called.”

Kaz flipped  _ Fuck it, call it MK Ultra or something  _ over in his hand and spotted “MK Ultra” again on the track listing. “Is that the title track then?”    


“Yeah. Adam wrote it when he was still in the band. Wouldn’t stop talking about some screwed up CIA experiments and wrote a song about how it’s... hrgh... a metaphor. Or something. I don’t really get it. Adam was fucking weird. But it’s a good song.”

Kaz nodded. “I’ll give it a listen.” Jack scooped up some cans of hairspray. “You’re not seriously taking those. I have a job, you know.”

“Fine. I’ll leave them. But I better not see any of this,” he reached out and messed up Kaz’s pompadour even further, “at practice on Wednesday. Which is at 7 by the way. 3237 Willow St. The garage door will probably be open. Unless Strangelove’s working late again. Then we’ll all just awkwardly stand in the driveway until my mom notices and invites us in.”   

“You couldn’t just go in through the-”

“The front door? Seriously? You’ve got a lot to learn, Kaz.” And with that, Jack was out the way he came in. Kaz absentmindedly wondered where this Adam was now. At the rate this seemed to be going, Witness Protection, probably.

Well. Kaz was in a band now.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
